


Slow Going

by Arsenic



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2006-09-11
Updated: 2006-09-11
Packaged: 2020-11-07 15:11:33
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 963
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20819393
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Arsenic/pseuds/Arsenic
Summary: Challenge: Ron/anyone, Guinness, tracing your roots





	Slow Going

**Author's Note:**

> Written for hpshortfics

Hermione, who still knows Ron better than anyone, says, "Take some time for yourself. Go somewhere that's not here."

Ron breathes slowly, because sometimes it still hurts when he rushes things. Anything. "I have to find myself a new job."

Draco, who doesn't know Ron at all most of the time, but seems to love him all the same, says, "Forget that."

"Some of us-" Ron starts, and he's probably going to get mad, and yell, and that will hurt, but Draco cuts him off before he can really get going.

"Forget that. At least for a bit." He sounds unconcerned. He doesn't look it.

Ron thinks it's Draco's life debt speaking, and that Draco will leave him half-way through. . .wherever, jobless and suffering from permanent curse after-effects. "Look, there's nowhere I want to go."

It's sort of true, too. Standing is a chore right now, walking pure torture.

Draco says, "There are places I want to take you. Things you should be shown."

Ron's too tired to fight, especially with Hermione and Draco ganging up on him--he aims a glare in Hermione's direction. She's supposed to be his best friend. She smiles back, the smile that says, _well, yes, but I can choose to be your ex-girlfriend, if I want._

Ron knew there was a reason for the break-up.

Not that he's chosen better this time. If chosen is the word; what with Draco all of a sudden deciding that a life debt meant something and maybe he should just look at Ron, and yes, maybe Ron has always thought _maybe, maybe if he'd just let me touch his hair,_ but that was a secret thought and one that Draco was never supposed to encourage.

Hermione says, "I'll let you rest," and gets up to go.

Draco stays. Sometimes Ron wonders if he even has his own place anymore, or if he finally sold the Manor off to some other family that likes to collect books that possess people's little sisters in its spare time. Ron doesn't ask. If Draco lays down with him, his hair will brush across Ron's cheek, and Ron will know that it doesn't matter if this is a good idea or not. It just is.

*

Draco acquires for them a Portkey to Ireland. A father and a mother both convicted as Death Eaters, a Dark Mark of his own, and the man still has connections.

Ron would feel bitter about it, except he generally benefits from the backwardness of it all. Also, he's grown into a few of his own connections, what with two Order of Merlins, first class each. Levels the playing field, a bit, it does.

Ron asks, "Ireland?" because honestly, he's been to Ireland before and he would have expected Draco to have more imagination.

Draco says, "Things you should be shown," and cannot be convinced to divulge anything else of his nefarious plans until Ron gets him good and off his face on Guinness. Admittedly, this is most likely very ungentlemanly of Ron, who knows that Draco only ever drinks butterbeer in the afternoons and a glass of cognac on certain evenings, and only if there's a drawing room to go along with it. He has no defenses against the tall glasses of dark, thick alcohol.

Ron only feels a touch of guilt.

And that might very well be the effects of the curse. It's hard to tell sometimes.

Draco says, "I wanted. . ." and then seems to forget what he's saying, only to be reminded by powers-only-know-what. He brightens and exclaims, "Family!"

Ron sighs. Every time they start talking family, fights break out. Despite all logic, he doesn't really like fighting with Draco. "Drink your beer."

"No." Draco puts his foot down, literally, nearly stumbling off his stool. "No. Your family. I looked, because. . ."

Draco seems so confused and so desperate to remember why that Ron tries Draco's very favorite motto: "Family's important?"

"Yes," Draco says happily. "And I wanted you to have one."

"I have plenty of family," Ron says. It's the one thing he's never lacking.

"Old family," Draco says, takes the last three gulps of his beer all in one, and lays down on the bar, evidently content to stay. Ron's just glad it's a wizarding bar. There's no way he's getting Draco back up to their room without a little help from the old wand.

*

There's a woman in the village. She's three, maybe four times Ron and Draco's age. Maybe more. She has Ron's hair and Bill's eyes and the strongest wards Ron's felt in quite some time. She also has a family tree hanging over her mantle. One that has Ron's name on it.

The woman leaves them to look at it on the pretense of making tea. Draco, whom Ron has nursed through a hangover, says softly, with a sort of fearful hush, "At first I looked because I couldn't stand the idea, you know. Of not knowing who your people were."

Ron knows Draco, it isn't like he doesn't. He says, "When did you find them?"

"I'm still finding them. These were just the closest. I didn't want, well, it was a little far to travel at the moment."

"I meant." Ron takes a deep, slow breath. It hurts, and he can't tell if that's just because it generally does, or because of what he's about to ask. "I meant, when did you realize they were just. . .old women in villages with faded family trees."

Draco leans his forehead against Ron's. "Months ago. Months and months."

Ron brings his hand up, weaving it in Draco's hair. The hair will tangle and Ron will have to be careful when he extracts his hands. He will have to go slowly. Draco has obviously learned to wait.


End file.
